That Old Tree Stand
Nature’s Lesson: Disconnect to Reconnect
In the pre-dawn stillness, I found myself perched atop an old but sturdy tree stand, its metal tinged with rust but secure. The woods were enveloped in a silence so profound it felt almost unnatural in our age of perpetual distraction. Before even the birds and bugs had stirred, I sat there, waiting for the first light of dawn—and perhaps a doe—to grace the horizon. It struck me how different this was from my usual routine, which would typically involve scrolling through my phone, typing away on my computer, or reading a book, squeezed in between errands, cooking, cleaning, and tending to the kids.
We live in an era where distraction is but a tap away. Our phones, TVs, social media platforms, and even substances like alcohol and drugs offer an endless array of diversions, all without requiring us to leave our chairs. This isn't a new phenomenon; the Colosseum once served a similar purpose for the Romans. But what sets us apart from past civilizations is the framework of rights and liberties established by our Founding Fathers. "We The People" is not just a phrase; it's a reminder that the ultimate power rests with us, the citizens. Yet, we've become so engrossed in our distractions that we've lost sight of how much control we've ceded to Big Industry and Big Government.
As I sat in that tree stand, my consciousness seemed to ebb and flow. I felt myself melding into the surrounding nature, becoming one with the massive pine tree against which I was perched. It was as if I had transcended the act of hunting and returned to a primordial state of existence. I was no longer an individual but a part of the grand tapestry of Mother Nature. All my doubts and concerns about the hunt dissipated. Whether or not a deer appeared became inconsequential; the mere act of being there was reward enough.
Suddenly, the world came alive. The first rays of sunlight pierced the dwindling canopies of early fall, and the forest erupted in a symphony of birdsong, rustling leaves, and whispering winds. Yet, there was still no sign of a deer. I was a visitor in this realm, a long-lost brother returning home after centuries of absence. I wondered if this was some sort of enchantment, a spell cast by the spirits of deer long gone.
This led me to ponder the future of mankind's relationship with nature. Could hunting be the last living connection between humanity and the natural world? What happens when even this is severed, not by external forces but by our own collective drift towards industrialized convenience? We've become so disconnected from nature that we've allowed toxins—both literal and metaphorical—to infiltrate our lives. This detachment from the natural world has repercussions, not least of which is the rise of a multi-trillion-dollar sick-care industry that profits from our ailments.
As I sat there, contemplating the history of that tree stand and the hunters who had come before me, I realized how disconnected I had been even while sitting in the midst of nature. My mind had been wandering, my attention divided. Perhaps this was not just a fleeting lapse but a symptom of our times. I resolved then to spend more time in the woods, away from the siren call of modern distractions. Only by being fully present could I hope to truly connect with the wilderness around me—and perhaps, in doing so, the elusive deer would finally reveal herself.
With that thought, I decided it was time to head home. Whether or not I returned with a deer was beside the point. The real trophy was the wisdom gained and the peace found in those quiet hours before dawn. And that, I knew, was more than enough.
Stay free, my friends.
-Greg